Amor Vincit Omnia (✓)

♕ Chapter 4

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Julian smiled. It was not a smile that he displayed frequently, but a shadow of a once whole-heartedly smile, back in the days when his family was united and constant in the affection for one another. His father used to chuckle at his son's laborious attitude, reminding him of life's small pleasures.

"Son, taking a moment to breathe in deeply and forget about life's dour experiences is compulsory, if not the most fundamental. You cannot exhaust yourself, you have to preserve that beautiful mind of yours." He used to advise Julian's twelve year-old version.

The man eyeing his tailored suit in the mirror laughed ironically. His father had been a gift and a curse at the same time. He was a man of ardent authority, who could elevate each and every one of the people surrounding him. His presence required more than a simple attention, it demanded full avowal of his value and status. Men and women, poor individuals and wealthy noblemen, they were all hungry for his words and thirsty for his stories. People respected him irrevocably, bearing no form of dutiful restraint. It was lovely to witness his father receiving such admiration. Sadly though, Julian had never been able to offer his people the same mutual respect. He imposed himself, mainly because his self-preservation had been the pillar he clung onto permanently. The walls around his heart would never shatter, or even crack. They would remain unreachable, slipping through everyone's fingers, like the time that can never be revived again.

Julian's thoughts came to an end when he noticed Freya entering the room. Her features seemed weary, as if she hadn't been sleeping well. That evening was the Annual Royal Gala, an event he was compelled to attend, unlike his future wife, whose absence he had agreed upon. The reason for such a bizarre approval was the guests' libellous attitude. They would inquire about the arson, for the news were released the day before and he was obliged to disconnect any means of communication. His phone would have ceded at the amount of calls and demands for special interviews. Damn those prying knob heads!

"May I be of assistance?" Freya asked, eyeing him admiringly.

Julian turned around and shook his head in dismissal, closing the gap between them warily. His thumb touched her lips gently, making Freya quiver and lower her gaze. "Don't." He said, lifting her chin up to meet her eyes, two almond orbs that begged for clarification.

"Have you not been able to sleep?" He quizzed, furrowing his eyebrows.

Freya dismissed his hand, scrutinizing him in a deadly glare. "I am never able to sleep for more than two hours straight. Damn those night..." She stopped in mid-sentence, careful not to reveal the cause of her sleep-deprivation. Nightmares were a subject neither for conversation, nor for remembrance. They were shackles from which she escaped during the day and to which she returned every night.

Julian sighed, realizing one more time that he would never come to terms with her. Why he kept trying, he had no idea.

"Fine. I will met my informer at the Gala. He has not discovered much, however it is worthy of my attention. Try to behave while I am gone."

"Try not to be such a demanding tosser while you are away." She retorted, the curve of her lips disclosing her irony. Julian chuckled, glancing at the knot of his tie one more time before leaving.

Trying to distract her thoughts from the arson and the impetuous pressure that threatened her status, she descended the stairs in search for John. She hardly saw him the day before and strangely enough, she did feel a strong pull towards this man whose affliction was tearing her heart. Her desire to know his past was probably induced by his fatherly figure, one that Freya had neither encountered, nor dreamed about. Paternal presence was another sort of forbidden fruit, the kind of prohibited subject that she avoided at all costs. However, John's presence did not resemble the short and destructive connection with her biological father. The butler had no vice, no wrath, not a single intention to cause harm. He was pure in his own flawed way.